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# Starter
- URL: https://dianaludwick.com/starter/
- Published: 2026-06-18T14:39:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-06-18T14:39:00.000Z
- Description: "Starter," a musing on the faith it takes to create life from air, written Thursday, June 18, poem 169 in a series of 365 poems written by Diana Ludwick in 2026. Photo: "They have risen!" by Diana Ludwick (c) 2026.
- Author: Diana Ludwick
- Tags: 2026 Poetry Challenge, Current Events, Dry Humor, Humor, Loosely Hinged, Poems, Pun-y / Tongue-in-Cheek, Unserious, Air, Baker Bakee Relations, Banneton, Barbecue, Breath Work, Brisket, Challenger Bread Loaf Pan, Darth Vader, Faith, Fish Tanks, Gluten-free, Gullet, Happy Pride Month!, Hobby, June, Late at Night, Passion, Patience, Peer Influenced, Power, Proofing, Ready, Results, Shower Caps, Silicone, Sourdough, Sourdough Starter, Starter, Staub, Summer, These Tariff Times, They Have Risen!, Time, Value, WiFi, #Migrated-1792872215677, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-10-24 20:03

I’m a born again sourdough mom.  
My peers have influenced me.  
And so here I am late at night  
blue screen scrolling   
searching the ends   
of the interconnected   
web of WiFi  
for crucial tools   
of my new-old trade.  
  
A lame in black walnut,   
no make it *two*.  
  
A pair of Banneton rattan baskets  
with quaint linen liners  
  
An extra large silicone mat   
for kneading and folding  
  
One hundred elasticized bowl covers  
(My apologies Mother Earth)  
((They arrived))  
((They are merely plastic shower caps)))  
  
A silicone scraper   
in jaunty Veueve orange.  
A gimmicky but glass,   
so I’ll allow it,   
starter jar with   
a date and time silicone band   
and one of those strip thermometers   
more frequently found   
on entry level fish tanks.  
  
Thus far I have resisted splurging for:  
the Challenger bread loaf pan,   
something that looks   
and sounds   
like either Darth Vader   
or a pit barbecue device.  
  
A Staub 3.8 liter cocotte   
  
A curved lame for baguettes  
(because of course   
the two I already bought   
are straight)  
((Happy Pride month!))  
A counter top proofing box.  
  
But tonight, my collection will add:  
A Pullman loaf pan with lid,   
sized for gluten-free loaves.  
  
A pair of texturized   
silicone oven mitts   
in cherry red.  
Hopefully red enough  
to match the knobs   
of my much imagined   
and much thirsted-for  
new range and double oven  
the one, perhaps   
not yet ordered  
but invoiced in the mind  
nonetheless.  
  
While I wait here in bed  
At a thirty degree angle   
so the magnesium glycinate   
horse pill I took   
with ample water   
will clear my gullet   
I envision   
all the fresh crusty sourdough  
I’ll enjoy from my new hobby.  
My new *passion*.  
  
I await impatiently the act  
Of driving my tense fingers i  
nto dough   
Until it yields   
under my hands   
like quick sand   
Until my nerves regulate   
into the pace  
of my wrists rocking   
and rocking   
and shifting the dough  
into a more perfect sphere  
(while the sphere I live on  
continues to flame   
under Man's un-kindness.)  
  
But for now  
I am feed number three  
into creating my starter  
  
And the act of discarding   
the majority of the bowl  
Still stings,   
eliciting an involuntary grimace  
from my anguished face.  
  
The commitment,   
the certainty that it takes  
of a human  
in *these* *tariff times*  
To throw throat tightenenly   
(this is now a word) expensive flours   
— all certified gluten free —   
into a sad slurry into the trash.  
  
  
(Each sling of wet goo   
into the trash  
 is about $6.50   
in gluten free grains)  
  
Although  
I am way past ready   
for the results,  
the act of coddling a starter  
reminds me   
of the power of patience.  
  
Of the Art of rest  
Of the need for breath work   
Of the value of giving room   
and air   
and time   
to a thing   
that you’re perhaps unsure of   
but you need to believe in   
anyway.  
  
And so perhaps like brisket,   
starting a starter   
is an ultimate act of faith.